Grab Her
Salvatore
“Relax your throat.”
Vittoria’s jaw tenses under my grip. “Relax,” I repeat, hooking my thumb into her mouth to open it wider. Saliva spills down her chin. I smear it across her lips, stretching over my length.
If I didn’t want my hearing, I’d rupture my eardrums with the letter opener. What happened to sucking dick in silence? I’m thick, but I wish she’d shut the fuck up. Her nasally moans sound like a horse with asthma.
“Mmf,” she snorts through a whine.
I reach for the remote to turn off my office lights at her widening stare. The room eases into a veil of shadows. Sconces from the ceiling-height bookshelves cast small trails of light over the imported rug.
“Suck harder.” The silky strands of her brown hair tighten around my fist, which I use to guide her at my preferred pace.
Vittoria is attractive when she doesn’t resemble a dusty grouper. Her round, unblinking eyes and botched lip job whileshe’s sucking me off are what draw my frown. How is her mouth fat and long?
Her tongue drags over my tip before she works the muscles in her mouth to pull me to the back of her throat. I hold the nape of her neck and thrust deeper. She takes me inch by inch until her nose presses into my zipper.
Finally.
“Mmf.”
“Your uncle—medda.” Andrea shields his eyes from the door. Light from the corridor spills over his black shirt into the room.
“Knock first,” I grunt. My trousers are low on my hips, but not enough for him to see me testing Vittoria’s gag reflex. She’s completely naked, the small arch in her back on display between my legs.
She enjoys exhibitionism.
“Mmf.”
And fucking neighing.
“Chi minchia fù?“ Andrea asks the lights on the other side of the corridor.
“What do you want?” I hiss, angling her face to hit every line in her throat.
“Your uncle is here. Wrap it up.” Andrea closes the door.
The slap of my balls on Vittoria’s chin and the moisture from her mouth drown out her horse sounds. My grip tightens on her cheeks in a long release.
“Swallow.” I grab the remote to turn on the lights.
“I can stay for the rest of the night.” She licks me clean, kissing my softening dick. “Let me make you feel good.”
I push off my desk and stuff myself into my trousers. “A car is out back to take you home. Clean yourself up in the bathroom down the hall.”
Her smile wilts into that damn grouper pout. “I thought—“
“Payment for your services is in your account,” I say from under a pendant lamp illuminating more important shit for me to deal with than her feelings. “The car leaves in six minutes. I suggest you move, unless you prefer the thirty-kilometer walk in heels.”
A scowl hardens her bronzed features. Vittoria is beautiful. Perky tits. A few curves. Warm mouth. She’s one of the approved women who come to this property that I pay to fuck when I need it and who leave once I say it’s time to go.
She snatches her dress from the ground and runs into one of my men waiting in the corridor to escort her off my premises. None of the women have seen the inside of my other homes. Only Vittoria and a few others from Eden spend the night in this property.
Sex for money is a gray area in Italy. The practice is tolerated among consenting adults outside of organized prostitution. Renata looks the other way if one of her employees wants to earn extra money outside of the club.
Many men have fallen because they lead with the wrong head. Weaning myself off the desire to fuck daily took years of discipline. I can withstand for weeks—months, sometimes. No woman will cost me my life by getting distracted. Yet none of my recent encounters have satisfied me.
